It was somewhere around the fall of 1980. I was 17 years old, and I’d begun to hang around with the Harknesses. We lived in the same neighborhood, attended the same middle school, and shared the same tastes in comic books and music. The Harkness house was a hotbed of culture—the kind of house I’d want my own kid to gravitate toward. Music playing in the living room, a band rehearsing in the basement, art always in progress; I recall concert banners drawn on bedsheets being a hot commodity. It was over-the-top wholesome.
Streaming is insidious
For years I kept my digital and analog systems completely separate. My big rig in the basement was analog and the smaller system on the main floor was digital only, running off a Squeezebox Touch. The main-floor system saw the most use in our house—it provided the music to our life for Marcia and me. For years she would get up earlier in the morning than I would, and she’d play John Zorn’s Alhambra Love Songs, Brian Eno’s Music for Airports, or The Plateaux of Mirror by Brian Eno and Harold Budd. I’d walk downstairs a half hour later and encounter an accidental renaissance scene. The lights dimmed way down, the gas fireplace casting a warm glow, and Marcia on the couch with the dog, writing in her journal.
In the world of analog accessories, there are entire catalogs of stuff you didn’t know you needed. Of course, I know there’s a distinction between want and need. We humans really only need food, water, shelter, and companionship. A turntable is a want. Heck, any form of hi-fi is a want.
In my August 1 editorial, I talked about the recent arrivals and departures in my review system. It’s been uncharacteristically variable lately, which has made reviewing a challenge. To make this variability work, I’ve been listening pretty much non-stop, and it’s been hard work. Oh boo-hoo, you might be thinking. Poor Jason—he’s got to listen to music all day. World’s smallest violin, etc.
My VPI Prime Signature has been in my system for six years now, ever since I reviewed it back in 2018. After I finished the review, I agonized over my next steps. I’d owned a Pro-Ject RPM-series turntable since 2004, starting with the RPM 9, which I bought after I’d finished that review. Then came the RPM 10 in 2007, followed by the RPM 10 Carbon in 2017. Those turntables had made me an honest man three times over, and I really, really enjoyed my time with them.
Curtis Counce, and that album cover!
I’ve always loved You Get More Bounce with Curtis Counce! by the Curtis Counce Group. It’s a delightfully easy, loping album, full of smooth, juicy lyricism, almost totally absent of the paid-by-the-note speed-bop that often leaves me feeling cold. But it’s not so laid-back that it’s going in reverse. Rather, it’s a midway blend of West Coast chardonnay and Chicago barrel whiskey. There’s some wonderful soloing going on here—Miles meets Ben Webster without the drug addictions. The arrival of the Craft Recordings reissue of this criminally underappreciated album really sent me down a rabbit hole.
The phono cable is the most critical piece of wire in your audio system. I make this statement with certainty. In North America, power cords carry an alternating current at 120V. Speaker cables may need to carry a few dozen volts. Line-level interconnects throw up to about 2V. But the phono cable? A low-output moving coil squeaks out somewhere around 0.5mV. Spin that number up to a value in volts and you get 0.0005V.
About 35 years ago, via a mutual friend, I became acquainted with Matthew, an aspiring poet and keen dabbler in psychedelic drugs. At that point in my life, I’d basically finished with psychedelics, as the transition from carefree student to aspiring systems programmer had siphoned much of the fun out of that form of recreation.
Just recently, one of my wife’s family friends stopped by to drop off a book. It was a hot day and JB had been roaming the city by public transit, so Marcia and I invited him in for a coffee and a glass of water. JB was carrying a cloth bag containing some LP-shaped objects. I’m a dog person, so I metaphorically sniffed his butt and asked him what was in the bag.
Certain albums resonate with me. Often, it’s the setting I associate with these records that entrenches the music in my core memory. The music is important in isolation, of course, but the association with life events cements certain records into the root system.